


Cold Hands

by asexualrey



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of blood, M/M, Nothing much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualrey/pseuds/asexualrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s always been a wall. At first, Tanuma thought that with time and a little gentle persistence, he could pull it down. Or at least climb over it. </p>
<p>Now he’s just wondering if it’s completely futile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally and completely self-indulgent. Probably a little OOC (not too much though I dearly hope) and has also probably been written a dozen times before, but I've needed to get it out of my system for so long. I haven't read the manga (yet) so I'm going off the characterizations in the show. Also I feel like I vomited up most of this in increments, and as a result did very little editing, so sorry in advance!

There’s always been a wall. At first, Tanuma thought that with time and a little gentle persistence, he could pull it down. Or at least climb over it. He always imagined the moment he would get to the other side, what it would be like. He liked to think it would feel warm and peaceful, like lying in the grass in the summertime, when the last of the sun rays paint the sky orange and fireflies begin to rise into the humid air and the first stars blink awake in the darkening twilight.

 

Now he’s starting to think he’ll never find out. It’s winter. The first snow fell last week, and he has once again been pushed back to square one. That’s the frustrating thing about Natsume’s wall; just when he feels like some progress has been made, when he might be nearing the top, something pulls him all the way back down to the ground. Harshly. The impact always hurts, and it’s getting harder to cover the ache with a smile and the hope that next time will be different. 

 

The worst thing is that he has to climb it himself. There was a time when he’d hoped Natsume would open a door, just for him. But he quickly dismissed that possibility. If he wanted to see the other side of Natsume’s wall, he’d have to do the work and scale it himself. He never once considered whether it would be worth the effort. He still doesn’t. 

 

Now he’s just wondering if it’s completely futile. 

 

And he still marvels at how such a kind person can be so cold.

 

Snowflakes drift lazily outside his window, collect on the sill, and frost climbs up the pane. He stares at the mitten on his bedside table and tries not to remember, but that’s futile, too. 

 

He’ll remember it well for a long, long time; leaving shallow footprints in the thin white powder on the street, his hand grabbing the threadbare fabric and feeling the slender fingers beneath it, the breath of an angry argument that’s been a long time coming pluming in ghostly clouds before their mouths. His nose cherry red, and his cheeks the same color but not from the cold and not from the shyness Tanuma’s seen so many times.

 

He’s never heard Natsume yell like that before. It’s not a sound he’ll forget anytime soon. It echoed in his ears for the rest of the day and there’s been a constant pain in his gut ever since. 

 

“Are you mad at him?” Ponta had asked while he was still on the ground. 

 

He hadn’t answered. The snow had continued to fall, undaunted, and began to cover the tracks left by Natsume’s shoes when he’d turned and run.

 

And then, he remembers looking down and seeing the blue mitten in the snow by his feet and immediately snatching it up before it could get soaked, because he also remembers glowing brown eyes and the soft affection in the words, _“Shigeru-san gave them to me. They’re hand-me-downs, but I like them.”_

 

Now Tanuma reaches over and picks it up, rubbing the yarn between his fingers. The wool is soft and worn, but very warm. He feels wrong for keeping it, but he can’t give it back yet. He thinks about how Natsume’s hands are always cold—not that he’d really know, but… He’s accidentally brushed them with his own enough times. He also knows his hands are bigger than Natsume’s, so when he slips his left inside, he’s surprised to find that it fits. They’re too big for Natsume. Thoughtful, selfless Natsume, who would never even consider telling Shigeru that they don’t fit, who’s glad to wear them just because they came from someone he cares deeply for.

 

Tanuma should really give it back. 

 

But.

 

He can’t face Natsume yet. He can’t bear to see his liquid amber eyes that are usually so warm and gentle frozen over and icy like that again. He can’t bear to feel angry at him again.

 

And he can’t help but selfishly want to keep a part of Natsume. He hasn’t asked for the mitten back, though he surely knows it’s missing by now. If he comes to retrieve it, Tanuma’s frightened that’ll really be the end of it. 

 

Groaning, Tanuma rolls over and buries his face in the pillow. He feels sick. 

 

He’s not a pushy person. He’s never been one to breach boundaries when he knows he’s not welcome. But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? He’s _not_ welcome. And it’s hard, it’s so hard, to keep convincing himself he’s not discouraged by always being kept at arm’s length. But at the same time, he’s thankful he can even get that close. He’s never known anyone like Natsume. So for a while he did a good job of pretending he was content there.

 

But they’re stuck in a frustrating, damaging cycle and Tanuma has always known it was a matter of time before he would reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

Is he mad at Natsume? A big part of him shouts a resounding _yes_. But another part whispers that he has no right to be angry. If anything, Natsume should be angry with him. Tanuma supposes he mostly feels hurt and disappointed, but he could never admit to that, not without—

 

There’s a knock at the door. His heart jumps violently in his chest.

 

His father’s out of town, naturally, and isn’t due back for another two days. It’s probably Taki—she’d dropped by a day ago to ask why Natsume had looked so uncomfortable when she’d suggested going out for ramen together that weekend. Maybe she’d talked to Natsume about it too.

 

He tugs the mitten off and slips it into his pocket before approaching the door. He doesn’t really want to talk to Taki at all, much less about what happened. And if she has talked to Natsume, he doesn’t really want to know what he said. It will only be more salt in the wound at this point. She’ll understand that, won’t she? Besides, it’s entirely possible she’s just coming by because she thinks he’ll be lonely.

 

And, well, she wouldn’t be wrong. But it’s not a loneliness she could remedy.

 

He’s thinking of how he’ll politely turn her away when he opens the door. A gust of frosty wind blows the hair back from his face and for a brief second he wishes he’d put on a sweater.

 

He steps out onto the porch, shivering. “Taki, I—”

 

And then stops. 

 

Because it’s not Taki. 

 

It’s Natsume. He’s hunched over on the dusty white ground, sunken on his hands and knees at the foot of the stairs and there’s—

 

Tanuma freezes. An icy wave of horror washes down his back.

 

There’s blood everywhere. It’s dripping into the snow and covers the arm he has wrapped tightly around his middle. There are splashes on his clothes, his face. He’s trembling, and his coat is in tatters.

 

All thoughts of their argument, any lingering ill feelings, vanish instantly.

 

“Natsume!”

 

He’s pounding down the steps, dropping to his knees, and his hands are reaching uncertainly for the boy, this boy who has always looked fragile but now more so than Tanuma ever thought possible. He doesn’t want to touch him for fear that he’ll shatter.

 

“Tanuma…” 

 

His name leaves Natsume’s lips as a quiet, breathy groan and is so full of pain and pleading that Tanuma wants to cry. As it is, all he can do is stare with eyes the size of saucers and think _this is all my fault_. 

 

“Hey, moron. Are you gonna bring him inside or just let him bleed out on your doorstep?” Ponta poofs into existence midair and lands beside his human, almost protectively.

 

“Wh-what should I do?” Tanuma’s hands are shaking now, too, and he’s overwhelmed with fear. “He—he needs to go to the hospital!”

 

At this, Natsume’s eyes pop wide open and he reaches out a quivering arm to grasp Tanuma’s shirt. “No! No, please… No hospital. _Please_.”

 

“That’s what I told him.” Ponta almost sounds irritated. “But the idiot won’t go. He said he wanted to come here.”

 

Instinctively Tanuma takes the hand that’s holding onto his shirt so desperately and distantly notes that it’s freezing and white. He pries away the stiff fingers and nods, even though he’s scared out of his mind and hasn’t the first clue what to do.

 

All he knows for certain is that Natsume is in pain and he might die if Tanuma doesn’t do _something_. So he pulls in a breath and manages to steel his nerves.

 

“Okay. Okay.” Hesitantly, he touches Natsume’s shoulder. “Can you stand?”

 

The boy gives a tense nod and Tanuma ducks under his outstretched arm. Getting up the stairs is a battle, and every yelp of pain that leaves Natsume feels like a stab to Tanuma’s chest, but they make it. Somehow. Somehow, Tanuma drags him to his bedroom and lies him down on his futon and practically tears his house apart for first-aid supplies. When he has a stock of towels, water, bandages, and antiseptic piled on his floor, he helps Natsume work off his coat and shirt. 

 

The sight that greets him is enough to make blood drain from his face. For a moment he fears he might vomit.

 

There are several large puncture wounds in his side that look too much like teeth marks. Something bit him, Tanuma realizes. The memories of dreams about youkai tearing Natsume apart come rushing back all at once and he feels dizzy.

 

“What happened?” His voice is a whisper, and his gaze is held captive by horror at the thought that some giant monster had really _bitten_ Natsume.

 

“Nothing extraordinary,” Ponta answers, because Natsume’s too busy bleeding on Tanuma’s sheets. If it wasn’t for his fast, labored breathing, Tanuma would assume he’d passed out. He’s obviously not entirely conscious. “Some youkai wanted him for a snack, and this blockhead let it sneak up on him like an oblivious idiot.” 

 

Tanuma’s eyes narrow. “You mean _you_ let it sneak up on him like an oblivious idiot.” 

 

The cat goes on like he hadn’t heard. “It masked its presence well, though, I’ll give him that. It was a nasty thing—big, but still a wimp in the end. I got rid of it easily.”

 

_But not before it hurt Natsume,_ Tanuma thinks bitterly. He’s had nightmares about this—about Natsume being eaten. The sight of the bite mark in his friend’s side will undoubtedly haunt his dreams for the next month, at least. He’s so rattled he has to spend a few moments composing himself before he can pick up a towel to staunch the bleeding. 

 

He has a sneaking suspicion there’s more to the story, but he’s sure there’s _always_ more. He doesn’t ask, though. He never asks even though he wants to know so badly. Asking only makes Natsume shut down, and Tanuma doesn’t want to risk his anger now by getting Ponta to tell him. That’s just what Natsume does—hides things. 

 

Tanuma wrings out the towel much harder than necessary, but brushes all his own feelings aside when he uses it to clean the blood off of Natsume’s abdomen. There’s a part of him that’s all too aware of the bare skin beneath his fingertips, but he’s able to dismiss it easily enough. This is no time for those kinds of thoughts. He can’t enjoy anything when Natsume is in this kind of pain. 

 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to a hospital?” He’s starting to get scared about internal damage. The wounds are still welling with blood, so he can’t begin to guess at how deep they are. 

 

“I think he’ll be fine.” The cat lifts a stubby paw to scratch himself. He sounds rather unconcerned. “The youkai didn’t even have fangs. I doubt the wounds are deep enough to damage anything important.” 

 

Tanuma isn’t sure whether to believe him or not. It’s mostly the way Natsume pleaded not to go to the hospital that keeps him from calling an ambulance. 

 

It’s quiet for a while save for Natsume’s labored breathing and an occasional whimper while Tanuma gets the bleeding to stop. It doesn’t take as long as he feared it might. That, at least, is encouraging. And once the blood is all gone, the tears don’t look quite so bad. 

 

Tanuma dampens a wad of gauze with antiseptic and dabs at the wounds as gently as he can. But as soon as it makes contact with skin, Natsume cries out and grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

 

“It’s all right, Natsume,” he says, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s just disinfectant. I’m sorry.”

 

“It burns…!”

 

“I know.” He can’t do this. _He has to do this_. “I know, but you have to endure it. Otherwise it’ll get infected, and then you’ll have to go to the hospital.”

 

The vice-like grip on his wrist loosens marginally and Natsume pulls in a ragged breath. “Y-yeah. Sorry.” His icy fingers leave Tanuma’s arm.

 

Some invisible hand squeezes his chest. _Don’t say sorry, you idiot._ But he just goes back to his work and does his best to ignore his friend’s gasps, does his best to ignore the fact that he’s causing Natsume pain.

 

Again.

 

He was stupid to think this would ever work. Their relationship—whatever kind of relationship they have—brings more pain than anything.

 

They try so hard not to hurt each other that they can’t get close. And that hurts most of all.

 

When the wounds are bandaged to the best of Tanuma’s ability, and he’s fed Natsume some painkillers, he rummages in his drawer and fishes out his favorite sweater. Then he sits on the futon beside the injured boy. “Here. Put this on.”

 

At first Natsume looks like he might protest, but then seems to realize he’s not really in a position to do so. With Tanuma’s help, he sits up and wriggles into the sweater. It’s a little big on him; the sleeves fall past his hands. But once he’s lying down again he looks up at Tanuma with clouded eyes and does his best to smile. “It’s soft.”

 

The sight of Natsume in his clothes makes Tanuma’s heart flutter like a bird. “Yeah.” He smiles and his hand hovers by Natsume’s face as he tries to decide how appropriate it would be to brush his bangs back from his eyes. After a second, he concludes that Natsume’s probably too out of it to notice. 

 

The straw-colored strands are softer than he’d thought they’d be.

 

As he predicted, Natsume doesn’t comment on it. Instead, his eyes close and his breathing evens out and it doesn’t take long at all before he’s fast asleep.

 

Tanuma has to watch his chest rise and fall for a while before he feels assured enough to leave the room to make some tea. His hands are still shaking when he pours the water. 

 

“Are you still angry with him?”

 

Some of the water sloshes onto the counter. Tanuma whirls. “Ponta! You scared me.”

 

The cat just stares at him through narrowed eyes and the question hangs in the air.

 

Again, Tanuma doesn’t know how to answer. He sighs, and continues to go about making tea. “I… Maybe. Yes.” It feels wrong to say so, but Natsume being hurt can’t dispel it.

 

“I don’t blame you.” 

 

His hands still. “Why not?”

 

Ponta jumps onto the counter with a grunt and starts licking a paw. “You feel like he doesn’t trust you, right? Like he keeps pushing you away?”

 

Tanuma reaches into a cabinet for a teapot. “Well…yes.” He pauses for a moment in lifting the lid, brow creasing. Then he’s quick to add, “But he doesn’t owe me anything. I don’t want him to do anything he’s uncomfortable with.” It’s true. He has always tried to give Natsume his space since he seems to need it so badly. He’d just always thought…always _hoped…_

 

The cat snorts. “Maybe. But that’s not the real issue.”

 

Tanuma thinks, not for the first time, that Natsume’s sensei is a hell of a lot more perceptive than he lets on. Instead of saying that, though, he smiles tightly. “What makes you say that?”

 

Once again, the ayakashi’s only reply is to narrow his eyes, and Tanuma hasn’t a clue as to what he could be thinking. After a few long, uncomfortable seconds, he sighs. “Jeez. You two really are hopeless. That kid has no sense of self-preservation and I’m starting to think you don’t either.”

 

Tanuma’s smile softens a bit and he adds some leaves to the pot. “You’re probably right.”

 

And maybe that’s the problem. 

 

“You should tell him.”

 

“Tell him what?”

 

“What you think.”

 

Tanuma laughs, dry and mirthless. “I tried that. You saw how it turned out.”

 

“That’s because you didn’t do it the right way, idiot.”

 

“I—” This is so frustrating, and Tanuma is exhausted from thinking about it. “I don’t know how. I’m not good at this stuff.”

 

“That’s obvious.” Ponta leans back, stretching his front legs. “You’re so much like Natsume. Too soft.”

 

_Soft…?_ He shakes his head. “Sensei, I wanted to ask. Why did Natsume want to come here instead of…well, Taki’s or someplace else?” 

 

“How should I know? I’ll never understand that boy’s thinking. Ask him yourself.”

 

The thought makes his stomach flip. He’s not so sure he wants to know what Natsume will have to say—assuming he would even give a straight answer.

 

Ponta hops onto his shoulder. “Anyway, I’m hungry. Make me a snack.”

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Natsume wakes up hours later. The sun has gone down and Tanuma’s sitting at his desk working on homework (but mostly trying not to nod off) when he hears a soft intake of breath. He turns and is met by copper eyes. 

 

“Natsume?”

 

The boy blinks at him for a few seconds as if trying to remember where he is and what he’s doing there. Then he sits up—or tries to. He doesn’t get far before letting out a sharp cry of pain and clamping an arm around his stomach. 

 

Tanuma’s chair clatters against the floor when he bolts up and rushes to Natsume’s side. “Hey, hey! Don’t move so fast!” His hands fly to his friend’s shoulders and ease him back down onto the pillow. “Easy now. You don’t want to start bleeding again.”

 

Slowly, the tension drains out of Natsume’s face. “Right. Sorry.” His gaze wanders around the room and eventually lands on the window. “What time is it?”

 

“Almost nine o’ clock.”

 

At the look of horror that comes over the boy’s features, Tanuma is worried he’ll try to get up again. “Nine o’ clock!?”

 

“It’s all right.” Tanuma’s hand tightens a bit on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Natsume. I already called the Fujiwaras and told them you’re spending the night here.”

 

“Oh.” Natsume breathes out and finally relaxes. “Oh, good. Thank you, Tanuma.”

 

Tanuma frowns. “I don’t know how you’ll explain this to them, though. You can’t just hide in my room until you’re better.”

 

“I’ll be all right by tomorrow. It’s fine—they won’t have to know.”

 

For a few beats, Tanuma can only stare at him in bewilderment. “You’re not serious.”

 

Natsume blinks owlishly. His eyes still look hazy and dazed. “Huh? It’ll be fine, Tanuma. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

 

Tanuma goes rigid, and his bewilderment morphs into disbelief. “Not the first time…? You mean this has happened before!?”

 

“Well, it’s usually not this bad.” Natsume flashes one of those smiles that Tanuma always thinks looks so forced, and yet he does it so easily. “It’s really okay, though.”

 

“Wh… Why didn’t you tell me?” The words are out before he can stop them. He knows why. 

 

Natsume looks away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

 

“I always worry.” Tanuma pushes a hand through his thick black hair. “Don’t you know that?” _I have nightmares about losing you_.

 

“Don’t.” Penny eyes are on him again, hard, and Natsume’s mouth is a firm line. “I know what I’m doing, and I have Sensei with me. You don’t need to worry.”

 

Oh, no. They’re heading back into _that_ territory.

 

The mitten sits heavy in Tanuma’s pocket. The feeling of landing flat on his ass in the snow comes back so vividly he can almost feel the icy damp soaking into his pants. He doesn’t want to go there right now. 

 

With a sigh through his nose, he pushes himself to his feet. “Are you hungry?”

 

Natsume blinks once, twice, obviously thrown by the sudden change of topic. “Uh…not really.”

 

Tanuma smiles, and it feels every bit as forced. “Too bad. You lost a lot of blood. I’m going to bring you some food and I want you to eat all of it.”

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Natsume eats without much protest. Tanuma suspects it’s because he feels guilty, and he refuses to feel guilty for making Natsume feel guilty. There was a time when he wouldn’t even think of pushing him, but that time is slowly passing as he gets to know the boy better. 

 

But the wall still looms. 

 

After he’s cleared away the dishes, he gets Natsume to lift his shirt so he can check on his injuries. He cringes when he removes the bandages and sees deep red-purple bruising mottling his too-thin torso. He can only imagine the kind of pain it’s causing. 

 

“It really got you good,” Tanuma muses quietly, fingers trailing feather-light over the discoloration. 

 

He almost misses the goosebumps that break out on Natsume’s skin. The flaxen-haired boy laughs uncomfortably. “I guess.”

 

“I don’t know what you’ve deluded yourself into believing, but there’s no way you can go to school tomorrow like this.”

 

“Yes I can. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

 

“Jeez.” Tanuma barks out a laugh full of sarcasm. His patience is slipping again. “All this time, and you still think you can lie to me like that.”

 

Natsume doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

 

The silence that drags out as Tanuma smoothes cream over the wounds and tapes new patches of gauze over them is tense. Both of them are probably thinking about the same thing, he surmises. 

 

Finally, Natsume takes a breath. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“This.” He gestures to his side. “Aren’t you angry with me?”

 

Oh, boy. And Tanuma was hoping it wouldn’t come up. Should’ve known better. “Natsume… I’m not going to snub you just because I’m angry. Especially when you show up bleeding all over my lawn.” 

 

“So you _are_ angry.” His voice is so small, nearly a whisper, like his greatest fear has just been confirmed. 

 

Tanuma is suddenly overcome by the urge to pull him into his arms. He looks so tiny sitting there, dwarfed in that sweater with his head bowed and his hands between his legs. It takes all of Tanuma’s willpower to keep his arms at his sides. A funny notion, since they’re at such odds and he just admitted to being angry. 

 

“You have every right to be,” Natsume continues. “I know I said some pretty awful things to you.”

 

The lack of apology doesn’t go unnoticed. Tanuma sits back and runs his palms down the length of his thighs. “Did you mean it?”

 

Natsume’s head snaps up. 

 

“When you told me I should leave you alone. Did you mean it?”

 

He hesitates, and Tanuma’s stomach drops to his feet. “I…I don’t know.”

 

“Do you really not want to be around me anymore?” He tries _so hard_ to keep the irritation out of his voice, but it slips in anyway.

 

Natsume’s eyes widen. “No! That’s not it! It’s just that—” He cuts himself off and sighs harshly through his nose. “It’s just better that way.”

 

Tanuma’s jaw clenches. How many times have they had this conversation now? And they still aren’t any closer to understanding each other.  Natsume is scared Tanuma will break. Tanuma is scared Natsume will break just so he won’t. 

 

Maybe they’re both just selfish.

 

“I think you’re wrong.”

 

Natsume looks at him again with inquisitive eyes. 

 

“Why did you come to my house today?” Tanuma fixes him with a hard gaze. “If you want me to stay out of your life so badly, why did you come here?”

 

He’d been giving it a lot of thought while Natsume slept and is very sure that if this incident had happened even a few months before, his friend would have elected to suffer alone or would’ve been dragged here against his will. But Sensei said he _wanted_ to come here. Tanuma hoped that meant that, deep down, he really did want Tanuma’s help. That he still wants Tanuma to be the one he shares this private and intimate part of his life with.

 

A sweat breaks out on Tanuma’s palms. He can feel the floodgates about to open. Maybe it’s best to just get it all out there. He takes a deep, shaky breath and thinks, _here we go_.

 

“You know, I’m only angry because I care about you.” Part of his brain is screaming at him to stop, _stop before you drive him away even further_. But he’s been bottling this up for so long. Their fight was so disastrous because he tried to keep a lid on it, and it only ended in frustration and misstatements and hurt feelings. He doesn’t want that to happen again. “I wish you wouldn’t push me away. I was so glad when Sensei said you’d chosen to come here to me—not glad that you got hurt, but glad that you trusted me enough to let me help.”

 

“I do trust you,” Natsume says, leaning forward earnestly. “You know that—”

 

“No, you don’t. Not really.” That familiar sadness wells up in his heart again; the sadness that’s not just for himself but for his friend, who has never known what it’s like to let somebody in—never known anybody that wants to be that close. It always makes him want to wrap Natsume in his arms and never let him go. “I know you want to protect me. And I know you’re scared that letting me get close to you will end badly and that it will be your fault. But you’re wrong, Natsume. If you let me close to you and something happens to me, well…that’s my decision. And it’s one I wish you’d let me make myself.”

 

He _needs_ Natsume to understand this, just like he needs air to breathe. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reached out and covered Natsume’s cold, fisted hands with his own. Natsume goes rigid, but Tanuma won’t let himself stop now despite his heart slamming against his ribcage like it wants out of his chest.

 

“Don’t you get it? I want to be close to you. I know what might happen, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take—I’m _more_ than willing to take. Because…because you’re worth it to me. I just wish I was worth it to you.” Reluctantly, he draws his hands back and immediately misses the feel of Natsume’s under them, cold as they are. “If you really want us to stay distant, I’ll respect that. I won’t push you. But you need to know that that’s not what I want.”

 

This is what it all boils down to, in the end: what’s worth it. Is being close to Tanuma worth the pain that might or might not come with it? Tanuma always hoped Natsume would come to a point where he would say yes. But that hasn’t happened, and at this point it doesn’t look like it ever will. It hurts more than he wants to admit.

 

Natsume is quiet for a long time. He stares at his lap, bangs falling in a silky curtain across his eyes.

 

Tanuma waits.

 

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and hesitant. “I… It’s hard for me.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth, an arm snaking around his middle to rub at his bandages. “I’ve always wanted someone to share things with. I think you’re the first human being I ever really talked to about it.”

 

Tanuma’s heart soars within him and tries very hard not to smile. _He_ was the first person? He should get some kind of medal. Oh, god, he hopes he doesn’t look as exhilarated as he feels—

 

“Well, you and Natori.”

 

And just like that, his heart crashes back down. 

 

_Natori_.

 

“But it’s different,” Natsume continues, and Tanuma forces his attention back to what he’s saying. Now is not the time to revisit jealousy. “Natori can actually see youkai, like me. He works with them on a regular basis so he knows the dangers. He’s known since before I met him. And you—”

 

Tanuma cringes, braces himself. _You are useless, you are weak, you are not like Natori. You are not like me._

 

“You are so much more precious.”

 

He freezes. 

 

Did Natsume just…?

 

“I mean—ah—” The blond’s face turns beet red and he scrambles to add to the statement. “It’s just…I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess I feel responsible for protecting you from everything that’s…that’s hurt me. I know what kinds of things youkai can do, and since you’re partly involved in that world because of _me_ … I can’t expect you to understand.” He sighs, and Tanuma can almost see the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

 

He knows he can’t really understand. There’s no way he’d ever be able to comprehend the things Natsume has gone through, and to be honest, sometimes he’s not sure he wants to know. From the glimpses he’s seen, knowing everything that’s happened to Natsume throughout his childhood would only cause his heart to shatter and Natsume to feel vulnerable and embarrassed. 

 

“Anyway,” he says, even quieter than before, “what I’m really trying to say is that I’m…scared. You’re my best friend, Tanuma. I care about you as much as I’ve ever cared about anyone. I _want_ to be close to you; I really do. But I’m scared.”

 

Suddenly, it feels like a portion of the wall just crumbled away.

 

Tanuma realizes how fragile a moment this is. He’s hesitant to breathe for fear it’ll make Natsume close up again.

 

“Lately I’ve been feeling—well, torn.” The small boy reaches up to sift a hand through his hair. “Whenever I have a problem, you’re the first person I want to go to. I’ve never felt that way before. And to be honest, it’s frightening to me. I’ve always tried my best to keep youkai problems away from my personal life. And then _you_ came along and it all started to get mixed together and it scared me so badly that…I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. I think that’s why I yelled at you.” His hands wring themselves together in his lap. “I’ve never had a friend I could go to about these things, never mind one who _wanted_ to be involved in that part of my life. I guess I really just don’t know how to handle it.”

 

It usually isn’t easy for Tanuma to look at things from Natsume’s perspective. He always tries, but the incident with the mirror is enough to prove he simply just _can’t_ sometimes. At least not without help. For one of the first times ever, he feels like he’s getting an honest look into Natsume’s mind. It’s always fascinated him, but that wall has always been in the way.

 

The fact that Natsume is letting him see in now makes him want to grab his shoulders and kiss him. It’s not the first time he’s wanted to. 

 

“So… I’m sorry.” Natsume raises his head to look at Tanuma full-on, and there’s regret and guilt and a thousand other emotions Tanuma can’t begin to name swimming in the depths of his penny eyes. “I see now that I’ve been hurting you, and even though I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry this is the first time we’ve really talked about it. Also…” He drops his head, then, and his voice lowers considerably. “Please forgive me for the other day. I’m so sorry for what I said, and for knocking you over. I didn’t mean to… You weren’t hurt or anything, were you?”

 

Tanuma chuckles before he can stop himself. “No. I just had to explain to my dad why I came home with a soaking wet backside.”

 

The look that comes over Natsume’s face makes Tanuma double over in a belly-deep laugh. He covers his mouth with his hand like a giggling schoolgirl until he has breath enough to speak again. “Don’t worry—I told him I slipped on a patch of ice. No harm done.”

 

“Oh, good,” Natsume exhales in obvious relief, pressing a hand against his injured side. “I’m glad. I—I am sorry, though.”

 

Tanuma takes a deep breath and sits back, hands sinking into his sheets. “I guess we both said some stuff we regret, huh? Well, I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

 

The smile that breaks across Natsume’s face is like the break of dawn, like the sun appearing above the horizon. Even more welcome and more relieving. “Of course I do. You’re not still angry with me?”

 

“No.” How could he be? His eyes fall to the bedclothes, notice his hand is mere centimeters away from Natsume’s. “Like I said, I’m not going to push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But I need you to _talk_ to me, okay? I can’t read your mind. And I want to…I want to be close to you. It makes me so happy when you talk to me about things.”

 

“I’ll do it more often then.” Natsume smiles again, softer this time, but not the awful forced thing that Tanuma hates so much. This smile makes Tanuma’s insides feel like they’re melting and pooling into a warm puddle in his gut. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to talk to you about everything, but…I want to be close to you, too. It’s really great having someone to talk to. And you’re not just _someone_ , you’re…” He shifts a bit and his hand is a little closer. “You’re special. I don’t mind being honest with you. That’s not something I’ve ever felt before.”

 

Tanuma swears he’s about to float off the ground. He hopes to the gods that his eyes aren’t shining when he returns Natsume’s lovely smile. Once again, his heart is running a marathon behind his ribs. “That’s all I can ask for. Thank you.”

 

Natsume shakes his head. “I should be thanking you. I wish I could be the friend you deserve—”

 

“Hey.” Suddenly Tanuma’s hand is on top of the blond boy’s, squeezing a bit to cut him off. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re not any kind of second-rate to me, Natsume. You can’t know how lucky I feel to know you.” The blush that slams into his cheeks the next second is something he knows he can’t hide. His heart is clawing at his chest, but he keeps talking and hopes the other boy won’t notice (he knows he does). “We can figure everything else out later, together. For now it’s enough to know that you won’t push me away.”

 

“I won’t.” Natsume turns his hand in Tanuma’s until it’s palm-up, and his cold fingers slowly curl around the dark-haired boy’s warmer ones.

 

Tanuma goes rigid. He just knows he’s going to explode, or wake up and find he’s dreaming. 

 

It’s the first time Natsume has deliberately returned his touches. Even this small response sends his stomach spinning. 

 

“Really, though. Thank you. You’re an amazing person.” Natsume’s thumb slides lightly over Tanuma’s knuckles and now there’s a cute shade of pink dusting his cheeks as well. “I’m glad I came here today.”

 

“Me too.” Tanuma might— _might—_ have worked up the courage to ask Natsume on a date right then and there if he hadn’t happened to look down and see Natsume’s other hand still rubbing at his side and take note of the way he’s beginning to squirm and shift uncomfortably. It’s then he’s reminded of why Natsume is here in the first place and he berates himself for not thinking of it. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, I just—” For a second the blond looks like he might make an excuse, put on another mask, but then he grimaces and lets some of the pain he must be feeling leak into his countenance. “I think the painkillers are wearing off.”

 

Tanuma stands immediately, parting with Natsume’s cold hand for a second time that day. “I’ll get you some more, hold on. Want anything else?”

 

Natsume shakes his head, leans back against the wall with a poorly concealed wince. 

 

Tanuma hurries to bring back more medicine and a cup of water and watches anxiously while Natsume swallows the pills. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve realized—”

 

“It’s okay, Tanuma. I’m all right, I promise.”

 

This time Tanuma can tell he means it. He smiles warmly. “Why don’t you lie down? You need to rest.”

 

Natsume nods compliantly. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

 

“Don’t.” Tanuma wants to reach out to comb his hair back again, but can’t quite bring himself to do it now that Natsume is perfectly lucid. Instead he pats his arm awkwardly. “I’m happy to take care of you. I just want you to listen to me and not go into school tomorrow.”

 

“Mm. We’ll see in the morning.”

 

Well, it’s progress anyway. Tanuma feels like they’ve just taken new, daring steps in their friendship…and maybe steps towards the relationship he’s wanted since he first met this odd boy.

 

“Tanuma?”

 

“Hm?”

 

The blush on Natsume’s face reddens into something deep and he averts his eyes like he’s too embarrassed to look at Tanuma. “Would you…um. You really don’t have to, but…would you, uh…lie with me for a little while? Just until I fall asleep. If you don’t want to, that’s—”

 

It’s then that Tanuma swears he’s dreaming. Before Natsume can finish, he lowers himself onto the futon beside him, close but not uncomfortably so. “Of course,” he says with a reassuring smile. His heart beats faster when he realizes that, at this distance, he can smell the faint scent of fabric softener that always seems to follow Natsume around, even when he’s not wearing his own shirt. It’s a very pleasant smell.

 

Natsume’s eyes widen for a brief second before he looks away again, his face growing redder. “Th…thank you.”

 

“Yeah,” is all Tanuma can say in reply. He imagines his face is just as red, if the burning sensation under his skin is anything to go by. He has to make sure to regulate his breathing. He’s hyper-aware of everything at once: the way the light from his desk lamp catches on the wheat-colored strands of Natsume’s hair, the tiny, almost imperceptible freckles on the bridge of his nose, the soft rhythm of his breathing, how long his eyelashes are when he blinks. 

 

He wonders if Natsume has any idea of how beautiful he is. 

 

The other boy doesn’t seem to have any trouble relaxing into sleep, but maybe that’s just the medication and lingering blood loss. It’s not ten minutes before he’s asleep.

 

Tanuma just stares and contemplates how he ever could’ve gotten so lucky. It takes another fifteen minutes before he’s brave enough to shift, sit up, and plant a feather-light kiss on Natsume’s forehead. 

 

He misses the little smile on the other boy’s lips when he hears Ponta mumble, “Humans are so odd.”

 

Tanuma elects to ignore that comment, even if his cheeks flame up again. 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Tanuma is woken the next morning by Natsume shaking his shoulder and asking what time it is. It turns out to be past ten. Tanuma makes a call and they go back to bed.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Natsume shows up at Tanuma’s door the following week with a bag and a grateful smile. “Touko-san washed your sweater. Thank you for lending it to me.”

 

Part of Tanuma wants to tell him to keep it ( _that’s what boyfriends do, right? Steal each others’ clothes?_ ) but he ends up taking the bag and hopes that one day Natsume will be comfortable enough to keep his clothes because he likes the smell, or something equally as cheesy. 

 

_It’s been a week already, though._  

 

His fingers brush Natsume’s when he takes the bag, and they still feel cold, and that reminds him. “Oh! I have something of yours, too. One second.”

 

He no longer feels apprehensive about handing back the blue mitten. Natsume receives it with a blush. “Thanks. I almost forgot about it.”

 

“I should’ve returned it before now. Sorry.” Tanuma smiles. “Your hands are always so cold.”

 

Natsume chuckles, breath clouding before his mouth. “Well, yours are always warm. So it’s fine.” 

 

It’s all the warning Tanuma gets before Natsume slips his palm inside his and pulls him outside. 

 

Their first kiss is in the forest, in the snow, and Natsume’s cold hands enveloped in Tanuma’s warm ones. After that, when Tanuma makes progress pulling down the wall, it stays down.

 


End file.
